


and your words will burn onto my soul

by SkylandMountain1013



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 4 + 1 fic, Angst, F/M, but a happy ending, but phil really needs to get his act together first, come for the angst, eventually theres kissing, season 5, seriously angst, stay for the fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylandMountain1013/pseuds/SkylandMountain1013
Summary: four times phil coulson doesn't express his feelings (and the one time he finally does)





	and your words will burn onto my soul

**i.**

Music wafts through the makeshift forest as the hours blend together. Friends, old and new, laugh and dance and reminisce. While it’s not said out loud, it’s clear that everyone appreciates the respite from the horrors awaiting them in the upcoming days. 

Phil is off to the side, sitting against a tree. He’s content to just watch the happenings, occasionally snapping a picture on his phone. Daisy mid conversation with Mike, Fitz and Simmons FaceTiming with Elena, Deke attempting to learn the Electric Slide. 

He doesn’t quite know what to do with the sense of calm that has settled over him

Melinda approaches, sliding down to sit next to him. She hands him a bottle of Zima. 

Taking a drink, he can’t help but grimace. “This stuff tastes like shit.” 

She shrugs. “Better than nothing.”

He points his bottle in the direction of the happy couple. “To FitzSimmons.”

Their bottles clink as she echoes his words. 

When he puts his drink down his hand brushes up against hers. A jolt of electricity runs through him, and he lets it rest there. For a moment, he thinks that she might wrap her fingers around his. 

As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he chides himself for wanting it. When he made the deal with the Rider he made another deal with himself- that he wouldn’t let Melinda get hurt. 

No matter his feelings. 

So he pulls his hand back into his lap. 

They sit in silence as the music fades into a slower melody. Without a word, Melinda stands and extends her hand towards him. 

Phil only raises an eyebrow. 

“Dance with me.”

He gasps in mock horror. “Who are you and what have you done with Melinda May?”

She rolls her eyes and kicks at the side of his foot. “Shut up.”

Grabbing her hand, he allows her to pull him to his feet. 

His right hand snakes around her waist as her left slides over his shoulder. Their other hands clasp against his chest. 

While a handful of missions have found them in a similar position, there is nothing normal about this. They sway back and forth in time with the music. 

Wordlessly, Melinda shifts closer and rests her head against his shoulder. 

His breath hitches. 

Her warmth radiates through him and at that moment, he decides that maybe his feelings do matter. He decides to tell her how much she means to him, how much it hurt to force them to take a step back, how every thought he had in space was about how to get them back to Earth-  _ together _ . 

But then his lungs seize on him. His eyes water and he bites the inside of his cheek to try and stem the pain. If Melinda notices, she doesn’t react. 

And it reminds him why he  _ can’t.  _

But he’ll allow himself this moment- so he brings the hand at her waist up to her hair and and lets his eyes slip shut. 

He refuses to hurt her. 

  
  
  
  
**ii.**

Maybe they die here. 

It’s not the first time he’s had this thought over the years. Plenty of missions go south, plenty of missions seem to have no viable exit plan. 

But not all involve ravaging aliens, an increasingly more inevitable dystopian future, and unstable chemical elements.

And there’s certainly never been a mission with their feelings quite as out in the open as they are now. 

Phil paces the control room, rubbing his hand back and forth over his scalp. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” she snaps. 

He stops in front of her. “We’re sitting ducks in here,” he states plainly. 

“And if we go out there, we die. Immediately.” She’s nothing if not matter of fact. 

He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. “At least we’d be doing something!”

“ _ Phil.”  _ Her voice grounds him- it always has. “The team has their orders. They’re competent, and I trust them. Every one of them.” Her hand lands on his chest as emphasis. 

He almost hisses at the contact. It’s the first time they’ve touched since she rewrote their unwritten rules. 

She looks down at the meeting of flesh and fabric and slowly backs away from him. 

He leans against the back of a chair, his hand absentmindedly hovering over where her fingers were moments earlier. 

There’s no doubt he needs to tell her he feels the same way she does. But he also thinks he still needs to be cautious. 

The security cameras flicker as darkness surrounds the Lighthouse. 

Not now. 

If they get through this, he will find a better time.

If they don’t get through this, well, he supposes it doesn’t really matter. 

Later, they’re surrounded, and he throws caution to the wind. 

“Look, May, this probably isn’t the best time-”

Their eyes meet for a split second and he sees a flash of recognition, followed by indignation.

“It’s not!” 

His mouth shuts as quickly as it had opened. 

She’s right. She’s always right. 

  
  
  


 

**iii.**

He comes to in unfamiliar surroundings. It doesn’t take long to realize that he’s aboard the spaceship that attacked the Lighthouse. 

_ Damnit.  _

Standing up, he does a quick check for any pressing injuries. His head throbs and his ears are ringing, but he’s in one piece. 

He hears a door open behind him and when he turns around, Talbot is waiting for him. He’s cleaned up and has changed clothes and shit- how long was he out for?

“Phil! Glad you decided to join us!” 

“What the hell is going on, Glenn?” He really doesn’t have time for bullshit.

Talbot gestures around him. “I told you I could fix it.”

“Fix  _ what _ ?” His voice takes on an exasperated tone. 

“Everything. We needed someone to take control and I guess it had to be me. And now? They won’t know what hit them.” His voice is calm and measured, nothing like the broken man he had been earlier at the Lighthouse. 

Phil reaches in his back pocket before remembering his firearm is down below with Melinda. “Listen, the monologue is great, but we don’t have time. I’m going to go find a way to get out of here.”

He starts to move towards the door when Talbot reaches his arm out towards him. “No,” he growls. 

Suddenly Phil feels like thousand pound weights have been dropped on every part of his body. He tries to move his feet and instead cries out in pain. His head pounds like it’s in a vice and his throat starts to constrict. 

“This is our time Phil. To show them what we can do. And I need you with me. Understood?”

He manages an affirmative reply and Talbot releases his grip. Phil staggers back against the wall. 

Talbot’s expression changes, and Phil sees a hint of the friend he’s known for years. “Alright! Now let’s finish this and then I’ll take you back to that wife of yours.”

Phil’s reflexes kick in. “Not my wife.”

The General rolls his eyes. “That’s the biggest load of horse crap I’ve heard in decades. And I’ve heard some horse crap!”

He sighs. “It’s complicated. She’s screwed up, I’ve really screwed up, the timing’s been off. I know how I feel, but..” he trails off. He’s not sure why he’s about to confess his thoughts to a newly minted supervillain. 

_ Focus on the mission.  _

Talbot moves towards him and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go get you armed. Soldiers need weapons.”

Phil squints, trying to process the abrupt change in conversation. 

He follows Talbot out of the room. “Not even the weirdest day you’ve had this week,” he mutters to himself. 

  
  
  
**iv.**

His senses assault him all at once. 

His chest burns, the pain radiating up and down his arms. It’s a harsh contrast to the numbness in his fingers and toes. 

The taste of blood and bile mingle in his mouth. He tries to swallow it down but can’t force his muscles to move. His eyes open, but everything is blurry. Shapes and shadows dance around him. He blinks once, twice, but nothing clears. 

Panic starts to set in. He feels his heart race, then slow, then race again. It’s making him dizzy. 

Voices begin to filter around him and he strains to listen.

_ \- it’s not good. His lungs are filling with fluid - _

_ \- Coulson! Sir, stay with us - _

_ \- get it now, Simmons! We’re out of time! - _

_ \-   _ **_now_ ** _ , Simmons! - _

A voice registers within his consciousness. 

He finds enough strength to curl a finger around the bed rail. It creaks- enough to get the attention of the room. 

The ceiling is still swirling, but his vision clears enough to focus. Melinda rushes to his side.

“Phil.” He knows her voice is a whisper, but it still ricochets around his head like a jackhammer. 

His mouth is dry. “Melin-“ his words are broken up by a violent coughing fit. Light pinwheels behind his eyelids. 

“Hey, hey,” she soothes. “Relax. Work through it, Phil.” He feels a trembling hand run across his forehead. 

When the worst of it passes, he turns his head and meets her gaze.

He’s rewarded with a small smile- but he knows better. 

“You’re scared,” he croaks. 

She bites her lip and tilts her head upwards. 

Every breath he takes rattles in his chest, but he needs to get the words out. “Melinda, I-“

Her hand grabs his with such force that he can feel the adrenaline transfer from her body to his. 

“No,” she says, violently shaking her head. “We don’t do it like this. Do you understand?  _ It doesn’t happen like this. _ ”

Black is starting to creep in the edges of his periphery. He manages a nod. 

His eyes close heavy and he barely registers the pinch in his thigh. 

The world explodes white around him. 

  
  
  
**v.**

It’s two weeks before he gets the all clear to leave the medbay, and another two before he feels like he’s up to it. 

He shuffles slowly down the hallway, leaning heavily on the cane giving him support. 

When he reaches his destination, he hesitates in the open doorway. Melinda is curled up on the couch scrolling through a report on her tablet, blanket tucked around her waist. 

He clears his throat to get her attention. 

The smile she gives when she sees him is blinding. He feels the blush creep up his neck. 

“Look at you, out and about.” Her words are soft and warm. “How do you feel?”

Phil gestures with his free hand to the cane. “I think I qualify for the senior discount at Denny’s now.” He looks down, dropping his voice to almost a whisper. “I hate this thing.” 

“It’s only until you get your strength back. Not too much longer.”

She motions for him to join her and he’s silently thankful. He doesn’t want to admit how exhausted the short trek from the medbay to here has made him. 

Once sitting next to her, he fingers the edge of the blanket. He badly wants to touch her. He knows he needs to use his words first though. 

“I still owe you a conversation,” he says softly. 

Melinda gives a small laugh. “Things got a little busy.”

He moves his hand to rest over her blanketed knee. “I never wanted you to think I didn’t feel the same way.”

Her hand moves over his. “I know how you feel, Phil. You don’t have to-”

A shake of his head and a huff. “Nothing gets to stop me this time. I love you, Melinda. I have for longer than I should probably admit.”

Her eyes crinkle and before he knows it, she’s slanted her lips over his. He moves gently against her, relishing in the sensation that engulfs him. She strokes a hand against his cheek and he allows himself a quick taste of her tongue. 

They part, but stay close enough to rest their foreheads together. 

“It took you long enough,” she deadpans.

He groans. “I suppose I deserve that.” A thought enters his mind and he pulls back, turning serious. 

“Alien blood, bionic arm, iron heart, questionable emotional aptitude— I don’t know what you see in me.” He sighs. “I’m damaged goods.”

She moves towards him again, ghosting kisses on the palm of his left hand and over his heart. They’re followed by a lingering kiss across his lips. 

She speaks in an octave he’s never heard before. 

“All I see is you, Phil.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the fabulous plechka for the beta read and the constant affirmative keyboard smashing!


End file.
